Lux

When Aion stirred, two forces tore free in the same breath — opposite and

inseparable. Lux was the first: a blazing will that reached into formless

nothing and forced it to take shape. Where her radiance fell, edges appeared.

Boundaries. Surfaces. Things that could be known and named. Without Lux, the

world would have remained an endless dream with no dreamer. She is not warmth,

though warmth follows her. She is not truth, though nothing false survives her

gaze. She is simply the reason anything can be seen at all — the first law

made manifest: that to exist is to be visible. Light still chases shadow

across the world, and it always will. Not because Lux hates the dark, but

because shaping the unshaped is the only thing she knows how to do.